


we're wearing anchors on our shirts (you're a bottled star)

by BlackVultures



Series: the sunshine 'verse [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Introspection, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 18:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21020285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVultures/pseuds/BlackVultures
Summary: Studying Jack’s features, Mac tried to decide which one was his favorite. His strong, stubbled jaw? His salt-and-pepper hair, grown out just long enough to be fuzzy and soft? What about the lines near his eyes, or his eyes themselves? Brown like the richest bourbon or the sweetest syrup, they could be hard and cold one moment and full of affection the next.“Do I have something on my face?” Jack mumbled, and cracked one of those eyes open to peer at Mac. “Or are you just entranced by my beauty?”Mac’s smile widened. “Can it be both?”(The sequel to "all was golden in the sky (when the day met the night)")





	we're wearing anchors on our shirts (you're a bottled star)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackrose1002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose1002/gifts).

> Hey ya'll! This is a little birthday present for [blackrose1002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose1002/pseuds/blackrose1002), who as you know is my partner in crimes against MacDalton... but she's much more than that. Kaja, I'm gonna tell you this a million times tomorrow, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I'm so damn happy we're friends, and you get me in a way that very few people do. I love and appreciate you more than I can express, so here's a sequel to the fic that you inspired. <3 Beta read by the lovely [KatieComma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma) because I wanted this to be PERFECT - thank you so much!!! Any remaining mistakes are my own, and as always, if you liked the fic please let me know!
> 
> (Title is from "27" by Fall Out Boy.)

Angus MacGyver had spent a large part of his life unmoored. After his mother died and his father left, his grandfather had provided as much of a home as he could, and Mac drifted between him and the Bozers' like a buoy in a harbor. MIT had elements of the things that made his soul sing, but it wasn’t until the Army—which involved even more movement and drifting—that he found something that set him on fire (sometimes literally) but also anchored him to the ground in a way that no one had since his mom.

That something was Jack Dalton.

Not at first, not right away… but now that Jack was not only living in his house but sharing his bed, Mac had the revelation that the naked man who was currently starfished over three-quarters of the mattress and snoring like a chainsaw was the thing he’d been unconsciously searching for. He kept Mac tethered to the world, from getting lose in his own head, and didn’t keep him from making mistakes but helped him learn from them. He picked Mac up when he fell down, and maybe kept him warm at night too.

Mac rolled on to his nude belly and scooted closer to Jack, until he could rest a forearm across his chest and prop his chin on it. He smiled to himself when Jack’s arm curled around his waist almost instantly, even though he was still asleep. The movement shifted Jack enough that he stopped snoring, his face tipped toward Mac and away from the dawn light that was beginning to seep through the cracks in the curtains.

Studying Jack’s features, Mac tried to decide which one was his favorite. His strong, stubbled jaw? His salt-and-pepper hair, grown out just long enough to be fuzzy and soft? What about the lines near his eyes, or his eyes themselves? Brown like the richest bourbon or the sweetest syrup, they could be hard and cold one moment and full of affection the next.

“Do I have something on my face?” Jack mumbled, and cracked one of those eyes open to peer at Mac. “Or are you just entranced by my beauty?”

Mac’s smile widened. “Can it be both?”

Jack’s answering chuckle was a rumble that reverberated out of him and through Mac, and he used his grip on Mac’s body to roll them over so Mac was flat on his back on the mattress and Jack loomed over him. He leaned down to press their lips together in the softest kiss, his weight braced on one hand, the other one rising to comb the hair away from Mac’s face. The kiss tasted like sleep and the vaguest hint of toothpaste from the night before, and Mac was always amazed at how each time their mouths touched felt like that first time on the floor when he was helping Jack unpack.

“Morning, sunshine,” Jack said when he pulled away, a smile deepening those lines near the corners of his eyes, etched there by sun and age and sand. “How’d you sleep?”

“Just fine, until you decided to take over the mattress,” Mac replied, but there was no heat behind it. He leaned into Jack’s hand where it was buried in his hair, let his eyes fall shut for a moment. He was about to embark on a rather risky endeavor, but unlike blowing something up (or keeping it whole) this made him nervous. “I have something to ask you, but I want to preface it by stressing that you don’t have to say yes.” A pause. “Well, of course you don’t _have_ to say yes, but what I mean is that you shouldn’t feel like you _need _to—”

Jack cut him off with another kiss. “Mac, you don’t need to spin yourself in circles, I get the idea. Just ask me.”

Mac blew out a breath and nodded, before he shimmied out from under Jack to lean over the edge of the mattress. He twisted a little and reached down underneath the bed frame, feeling around on the floor, fingertips bumping Jack’s rifle case. What he was looking for was above that, near the wall, and he made a triumphant sound when he grabbed it. A square box that fit in his palm, covered in smooth black velvet. He sat up and presented the box to Jack, who sat up as well to take it from him, the bedsheets pooling around their hips.

“I know this isn’t traditionally how this gets done,” Mac said, shaking his hair out of his face, “but nothing about us has ever been traditional, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.” When Jack didn’t move, his eyes locked on the box he clutched in his big hands, Mac added, “You, uh, you can open it.”

Cautiously, as if he was afraid it might explode (which in their line of work was always a possibility), Jack opened the lid.

“I measured your ring finger while you were asleep—creepy, I know, sorry—and I did a _lot_ of research,” Mac continued, babbling like he did when he was anxious. “I knew you wouldn’t want a traditional band because they’re reflective, so this is rough onyx on the outside and titanium on the inside.”

Jack didn’t say anything for long enough that Mac felt his stomach roll, and he wondered if he’d misinterpreted everything about their relationship and made a terrible mistake. Just as he opened his mouth to… he didn’t know what, apologize, do _something _to try and fix it—Jack put the box down like he was letting go of something precious and used both hands to grab Mac’s face and reel him in for a kiss that was almost bruising in its intensity.

Relief flooded through every part of Mac’s body as he kissed back, one of his hands settling on Jack’s knee and squeezing. But when they broke apart, he was alarmed to see tears rolling down Jack’s cheeks. He was a big emotional teddy bear with the people he loved, but Jack rarely ever cried. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

He let out a rough chuckle and wiped at his face with the back of his hand, shaking his head in fond disbelief. “Only you would propose to somebody without actually askin’ the damn question.”

Mac played back the last five minutes in his head and laughed at himself. “Shit, you’re right.” Picking up the open box, he held it out to Jack again and looked him in the eyes. “Jack Dalton, will you marry me?”

“God, yes,” was Jack’s whispered answer, right before he tackled Mac back on the bed and smothered him with kisses. That set off Mac’s laughter again, and it took them a moment to collect themselves and for Mac to slide the ring on Jack’s finger. Once it was settled on his skin, Jack whistled lowly. “It’s gorgeous, darlin’. Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_,” Mac said, and when Jack raised a questioning eyebrow, he elaborated, “Thank you for saying yes, but also…” He trailed off, fingers drawing an absent pattern on Jack’s bicep. It took his brain a moment to catch up and realize it was an anchor, and just like that he knew what to say. “Thank you for being my anchor.”

Jack’s face screwed up in confusion. “Don’t anchors usually drag things down?”

“Not always.” Mac wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and pulled him closer, always closer. “Sometimes they lift them up.”


End file.
